


Cedar Wood and Smoke

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Fingering, M/M, Oral Sex, Scent Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 05:21:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave would rather be breathing in Dad's scent instead of oxygen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cedar Wood and Smoke

Clothes lost, legs twined, lips parted to allow short, rushed breaths to escape the throat. There was one scent lingering thick in the air, the one Dave loved; that heavy, invigorating scent of smoke and some sort of spice mixed with the fresh and gentle smell that came from the outdoors, specific trees and their woods, holding him, taking him under. Every time that smell so much as passed him, every time the elder Egbert gave him a glance late at night that informed him that John was sleeping soundly, he was lost in a devouring euphoria of scent.

Neither of them could really remember when or how it had started—but that didn't matter, because Dave was allowed to fall apart under the hands of Dad every time he came over. It was one of the only times he was relieved of all outward apathy, perhaps, even now, his eyes wide and as rich and deep as burgundy wine in their clouded concupiscence, pale cheeks flushed a dark shade of pink, body singing and trembling softly wherever the man's hands went. After being informed that John was a heavy sleeper long ago, he no longer had shame in the noises he made, no longer felt like he would have repercussions for crying out in lust. His voice had to be one of Dad's favourite things.

When Dad moved down to press his lips against where he could feel Dave's fluttering pulse, the younger tensed and let out a sharp breath, and when he suckled and dug his teeth into that small patch of skin, Dave was nearly gone, rolling his hips up with soft whines to plead for anything more than teasing. That wooden scent was strong and vibrant against him, and it was even a contributor to why Dave was breathing so heavily—he wanted more of that scent, more, it was addicting, intoxicating. It made him lose his mind.

This was a commonplace happening by now. John was going to bed at earlier times, the poor boy had so much schoolwork it caused him excessive fatigue, and any time Dave happened to drop by, he was in for such a scent-themed and pleasurable night. A small huff of, "Please," escaped him when he felt the older male's hands shift around to part his legs, and as he glanced down and caught sight of a warm and fatherly smile that held lustful intent behind it, his heart gave a thud.

"David, I've taught you this before. Good things come to those who wait."

Oh, Dave knew. Any time he grew fussy or impatient, Dad would bend him over his knee like a small child and deliver blows to his backside that turned his skin a stark red, but he loved it more than anything else, considering he could bury his face in the man's thigh and catch more of that beautiful scent that drove him wild. Tonight, however, he would rather be smothered in it himself, and so he swallowed softly and obeyed, catching his lip between his teeth and allowing his legs to be spread out wide.

Dad often preferred to be slow and take his time (not that he hadn't been rough before, and Dave had enjoyed every minute of it) and the same went for their current happenings. He leaned down and nipped at his inner thigh, laying open and wet kisses over the length of either of his legs, and there was a pause before Dave was tossed something that flooded and overwhelmed his senses with the scent he was so infatuated with.

His shirt. Dad had given him one of those crisp, white shirts he wore day after day, and it held an unimaginable power over Dave.

Immediately, he buried his face into the front of it while he felt the older male's kisses go more inward, and he inhaled deeply when Dad pressed his lips against the side of his cock, toes curling. A shaky sigh passed his lips, and he had to shift a leg up to rest on one of the man's broad shoulders just to steady himself; an anchor of sorts. The scent was overpowering him—it held a deep masculinity, something aged and worn, but something with power all at the same time—it provided both comfort and the need to be dominated at once.

It took Dave a moment to realize that his pleasure was not solely coming from the scent—Dad's lips were wrapped around the head of his cock, and he was moving further down, humming just to amplify it, and he was unable to hold back a soft cry when the man sucked harshly, causing a hand to fly down to twine in those neatly combed locks of hair.

His other hand stayed where it was to grip the shirt he'd been given rather tightly, and he was making an effort to breathe quickly and raggedly through his nose for the sake of smelling the fabric. He squeezed his eyes shut, a gurgle of a whine bubbling in his throat until he remembered what Dad had said, and so he just squirmed and panted in silent begging for him to take it deeper.

When he did, Dave couldn't even see straight. Something about the way Dad swirled his tongue and held his legs in large, firm hands was erotic, and his mouth eventually fell open to let out soft pants when it grew to be too much, darkening the fabric of Dad's shirt in the slightest with spittle. His teeth clamped down on it to fight a squeak when he felt cold and slicked fingers tracing past where Dad was working with his mouth, and they bit down a tad harder when one finger began pressing its way inside. It wasn't as if it hurt—they'd done it enough times to where there wasn't even a slight pain anymore—but what made Dave tense was realizing that it was getting to be about the point where he had to let go of any stoicism.

And so he did. He laid the shirt over his face just so he could breathe that scent in deeply, and he let out an unabashed wail of pleasure when Dad shoved his finger in the rest of the way and brushed just past his prostate. It was infuriatingly torturous, but Dave was notorious for abruptly releasing if Dad ever directly touched him there, so he'd signed his fate over to dealing with constant, dragged-out teasing. Closing his eyes, he allowed that clean, wooden scent to envelop him again, and his hips jerked up slightly when Dad began bobbing his head all while pumping his—shit, there was another—his fingers in and out of him. 

The pleasure burned in a way that not even his gift for poetic writing could describe. He was lightheaded, whether it was from Dad's actions or the fact that he was nearly suffocating himself with his shirt, he didn't know, but his head might as well have been in another realm entirely. His legs were taut and strung like a bow, heels digging into Dad's back, thighs pressing on either side of his head and quivering any time he decided to jab his fingers a tad harder. He heard himself giving lewd cries, please, more, don't take it so gently, make me yours, own me, devour me, dominate me—and his words were soon taken over by choked moans instead, voice cracking whenever it went high and chest heaving as he tried to get a few breaths in with his nose so he could relish in Dad's scent.

Dad began moving his fingers at quite a quicker pace, pressing more near to his prostate, and Dave's stomach coiled and burned in anticipation all while he seized up and his mouth simply fell slack in what almost looked like a silent scream of bliss. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, body jerking and writhing from its place being held still, lungs flooded with that wooden scent he adored, and Dad pulled his mouth away and simply used his fingers, shifting upwards to hover over Dave, causing the younger male to have to curl up lightly.

It looked like Dad's arm was even straining from how hard and fast he was moving his fingers, and Dave opened his eyes for the briefest of moments to watch it before they rolled back into his head instead, and Dad leaning down and catching his ear between his teeth so he could bite and tug was what made him give his loudest moan. He jerked violently again, free hand coming up to drag his nails down his back—that scent was truly smothering him now, it was beautiful, blissful, everything masculine and powerful—and he let himself go with various whines and cries and choked gasps of _Mister Egbert_ that were loud enough to have woken anyone up but the heavily-sleeping teenager in a nearby room.

Dave's release was rolling off of his stomach in small lines, and his eyes closed when he felt Dad lean down to envelop him in a warm and calming embrace after removing his fingers, ceasing his panting and breathing through his nose again. Now, Dad's scent was more soothing than anything else, still thick, but comforting in every way, and Dave's head lolled against the man's neck while he listened to the soft and caring praises that were being murmured into his ear.

He felt his own lips twitch up into a faint and sleepy smile, and he tilted his head up and kissed Dad to both quiet him down and to feel a smile form against his own. "Shit, Mister E. That arm strength could get you a long way," Dave breathlessly remarked, muffling a small laugh against the man's shoulder when he noticed him frowning at the use of vulgar language.

As long as Dave had both the elder Egbert and his inebriating scent, he would be just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> i just like underage dirty stuff B))


End file.
